


party (like we're all gonna die tonight)

by steelrunner



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Knotting, M/M, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Lance (Voltron), Porn With Mild Plot, Post-Coital Cuddling, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Club, Sexual Harassment, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelrunner/pseuds/steelrunner
Summary: Technically, the entire point of heat clubs were to help omegas and alphas find an interested partner on short notice, but when sex was involved, people lost sight of the original goal pretty quickly.





	party (like we're all gonna die tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> [Dangerous - Left Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6BkLsC3bQg)
> 
> Shout-out to King Ros for betaing!

The line waiting to get into the club was insane, halfway around the block and so swamped with pheromones that Lance almost had to cover his nose when he got to the back; alpha and beta and omega, from flat and unagitated to completely rank. But it moved fast, and it wasn’t long before Lance was standing in front of the facade, the huge neon sign above his head gleaming hot pink and red. _Heat Wave_ , it said: the V was a pair of legs, spread wide.

Lance swallowed, and kept moving.

The bouncer waiting at the door was an alpha: broad-shouldered with huge tattoos wrapped around his bulging arms. He looked up, disinterested, as Lance stepped forward. “ID?” When Lance fumbled it out of his pocket, he leaned in and took a closer look. “That real?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “I’m eighteen.”

The guy shrugged. “Dynamic?”

“Omega.”

“And you’re looking for?”

“Um - alphas only.”

The bouncer stamped his hand before pulling a blue wristband out of the pile and fastening a red button on it. He snapped it onto Lance’s wrist so tight it bit into the skin, and then Lance was being propelled by the force of the line behind him, into the feverish, pulsing dark of the club.

It was like most other nightclubs Lance had been to. The air was filled with stale-smelling smoke cut through by flashes of light, music taking a backseat to the noise of the crowd, stomping feet mixed with shrieks of laughter. People on the balconies above the dance floor threw down handfuls of confetti. The outfits did make Lance’s thin black tank top and skinny jeans look positively modest; several people were dancing in little more than underwear and body glitter, and more were disrobing in the shadowy corners.

Above all, the smell was worse. Lance inched away from the entrance over to the wall, where no one gave him a second look. He could pick out threads of heat- and rut-scent through the general miasma - even though he wasn’t due for his next heat for another two months, it still made him flush, pressing his legs together.

But as overwhelming as it seemed, there was no way he’d ever find what he was looking for on the sidelines. The heavy bass resounding through the speakers dropped away, and a new song started playing; upbeat and twangy, something Lance had heard on the Top 40 station plenty of times.

Lance tugged on the hem of his shirt, and with one last anxious gulp, he headed onto the dance floor, wiggling through the mass of people to reach the heart of it.

Technically, the entire point of heat clubs were to help omegas and alphas find an interested partner on short notice, but when sex was involved, people lost sight of the original goal pretty quickly. That was where the concept of bands came from in the first place. Lance couldn’t forget it - not with the amount of groping he saw going on, but it was easier than he expected to just let go and move with the crowd. It helped that it was clear no one gave a shit about how well you were doing it, and as the songs blurred away, Lance found himself getting into it. People kept reaching out to touch him, fingers catching on his belt loops and hands stroking his bare arms and sides; nothing heavier than some casual groping, which was why Lance noticed when someone grabbed his ass and squeezed, hard and shameless.

He let out something that was definitely not a squeak and whirled around, jostled between the dancers on either side of him. The offending guy was standing behind him and grinning big, generically attractive the way most twenty-something guys were, with at least half a foot on Lance in height. If Lance had spotted him around campus, he would have pegged him as a frat bro straight off.

“Sorry,” the guy said, grin tilting into a good-natured leer. “Just couldn’t resist.”

Lance rubbed at the sore spots the guy had left on his hip, not sure what to say, and he leaned in closer. “We’ve got matching bands; you wanna go to the back?”

Lance grimaced. “I’d rather not."

The guy wasn't fazed. "Then come on over to the bar and I’ll buy you a drink, first.”

“Uh, no thanks,” Lance tried to say, just as the DJ cranked up the bass and a wave of sound swept over the room. The crowd moved with it, and the press of movement shoved him right into the guy’s chest, forcing a surprised huff of air out of his lungs. His next gasp wasn’t forced, when the guy took that as a cue to grab his ass again, groping it while the people around them danced on blindly. He didn’t let go as Lance wiggled in his grip, even when Lance got his hands up between them and shoved, trying to get away -

Something forced its way between them, and Lance didn't even realize it was another person until their back was pressed against his chest, a physical barrier between himself and Mr. Grabbyhands. 

" _Hey_ ," the new guy said. “Leave him alone, already.”

Lance blinked, surprised but grateful enough to stay behind his new protector. The frat guy looked surprised too, but mostly pissed. “And why the fuck should I listen to you, huh?”

The new guy didn’t balk. Lance caught a glimpse of his face as he leaned forward - he was Korean, kind of cute in an aggressive way. “Unless you want me to call the bouncers, yeah. You will.”

The frat guy’s hands drew into fists. The music kicked up into a sudden crash of electronica; not trusting his voice to be heard over the noise, Lance looked directly at the frat guy, waiting until his gaze flicked over to him before mouthing _fuck off_ as obviously as he could.

The guy scowled, then snorted and stalked off into the crowd, obviously deciding there were better pickings elsewhere. When Lance looked away from his retreating back, he met the eyes of his hero, wide and dark.

Lance just looked at him for a beat, not sure what to say. He was just a smidgen shorter than Lance, but the red leather jacket he wore made him seem broader, and his hair was a thick dark mop. His scent was, frankly, a relief in the mix of alcohol- and musk-soaked press of the crowd; clean and simple, plain soap with leather and motor oil dancing round the edges. 

The dark-haired guy looked back at him, the protective tension draining from his stance. “Are you okay?”

Another dancer knocked against Lance from behind, making him stumble; this time he caught himself before crashing into anyone. “I…I think I need to get off the dance floor.”

The dark-haired guy nodded. “Follow me," he said, and Lance went along as he laid a light hand on Lance's arm, guiding him through the crush of people. Lance didn’t even realize where they were heading until he looked up and realized they were approaching the bar tucked into the corner of the room, a mirrored counter lined with more neon and surrounded by other patrons. The guy didn’t even hesitate, leading him past the jabbering line, grabbing onto an empty barstool and leaning over the counter to talk to the guy behind it.

Lance drew up short. “Hey - ”

The bartender nodded, and handed over two bottles of water, dripping with condensation. The dark-haired guy held one out to Lance and then stepped aside, offering the seat to Lance. “Here, you wanna sit down?"

Lance opened his mouth, closed it again, and accepted both the seat and the water wordlessly. His self-appointed protector leaned against the bar next to him, sipping his own drink. Lance watched him out of the corner of his eye. His band was wrapped around his left wrist: red with blue, purple, and red badges. An alpha seeking someone of any dynamic - or hell, maybe one of each for all Lance knew.

"You feeling alright?" he asked once Lance had put down his water bottle. He didn't look overly concerned, but the attentiveness in his eyes made Lance feel a little safer.

Lance nodded. "Yeah. Better now that that creep’s hands aren’t on me, definitely."

“Do you want me to call someone anyway? They can still kick him out.”

Lance fiddled with the label on his water bottle, thinking, then shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.”

“If you’re sure,” the guy said with a shrug.

“Yeah, well. Thanks for - back there.” Lance said, hesitating before deciding a handshake was way too formal for meeting someone in a club. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

The guy nodded. “Keith."

“So…” Lance drew out the word, trying to land on a topic of conversation that might stick. "Do you rescue a lot of people on the dance floor?”

That seemed to work, because Keith gave him a half-smile, unselfconscious. “Only when the bouncers aren’t close enough.” He gave Lance more of an assessing look, and Lance briefly wished he had worn something a little nicer. “Is this your first time in a heat club?”

Lance took a quick sip of water before answering. “What makes you ask?”

“Haven’t seen you around before. I’m in here almost every weekend, so.” Keith shrugged, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the writhing dance floor. “Plus, usually the ones who know what they’re looking for stay out of the pit.”

“Hey, I’m not some kind of virgin,” Lance said, a little defensively. He'd fooled around plenty before, both in high school and when he had come to college; mostly betas, a few other omegas here and there. “I know what I’m looking for.”

“Which is?”

Lance took a second to find his words, half-considering the idea of lying before giving up. What was the point, anyway? He was after the same thing everyone was. “Okay. I’m not a virgin, but - except for - ”

Keith raised an eyebrow, waiting silently. 

" - I haven't been knotted before," Lance confessed. “It’s not that important, but I just kinda wanna get it over with, y’know? So I can say I have.”

Keith didn't seem too fussed by that, just giving him a sidelong look. He shifted his stance, moving half a step closer as another group of dancers pushed up to the bar. "No offense, but wouldn't it be easier to wait until you're in heat? I've heard the body’s more, uh, receptive then."

"Yeah," Lance admitted, shrugging. "I've thought about that - " _especially after the last couple of heats I've had,_ " - but I'd rather do it when I'm clear-headed. More control over the situation.”

Keith nodded at that, seeming to understand, and Lance tilted his water bottle towards Keith by way of gesturing. “What about you? Why do you come here every weekend?”

Keith snorted. “My boss is always telling me to find a way to blow off steam, and this - " He opened his hand, gesturing at the writhing crowd behind them, "is the least illegal way I've found." After a beat, he seemed to realize the connotations of that, growing pinker under the neon light as he said, “Not that I usually commit crimes, or anything - ”

“Too late,” Lance drawled. “I’m undercover, you’ve been caught. Put your hands behind your head.”

Keith grew pinker still, but let out a snort of laughter anyway, bumping his shoulder against Lance's. “I’m glad you’re alright, but you don’t have to hang around if you wanna go. I don’t want to hold you back too long.”

“Hold me back?” It actually took Lance a second to connect the dots. “Oh yeah. Right.”

“Stay safe,” Keith said in all seriousness, before saluting to him with the half-empty water bottle. “Good luck finding what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks,” Lance said with a huff of laughter as he slipped down from the barstool; but the word felt more reluctant in coming, and he paused as he looked back out at the dance floor. He could almost see the rest of the night: trying to find the right guy to dance with, until the alpha decided he wasn’t interested or didn’t care about boundaries, and Lance moved on to the next one. Trial and error process. He almost blushed to remember Keith was, technically, a potential - he had an omega marker on his band, anyway. And it would be nice, to have someone who knew his name, who was considerate enough to pay attention when someone else was lost and off their bearings. 

Lance wheeled around. “So you don’t wanna - ?”

Keith gave Lance a quizzical look. "What?"

“Don’t wanna. Um.” Lance swallowed. “Fix my problem? If you’re interested.”

Keith got a look like someone had suddenly smacked him upside the head. “ _Oh_. You want me to - ?”

“If you’re interested!” Lance insisted. “You can say no, it’s fine, I don’t mind - just wondering - um - ”  
Keith straightened up, facing Lance as someone moved in to take his spot at the bar. “Hey, you’re the one offering.” He moved in closer. “Was it the criminal past that got you?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Lance said, the nervous flutters in his stomach bringing a smile to his face. What was he, some kind of amateur? “Plus you’re kinda cute, so…”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Kinda?”

Lance shrugged. “You know - sort of.” _Should I kiss him? I want to kiss him_. He bit his lip, eyes flicking down to Keith’s mouth. _No, that’d be too forward -_

Keith’s mouth quirked in a grin, and then his hand was on Lance’s arm, tugging him forward as Keith tilted his head to meet him; the press of their mouths was a sudden shock of heat, even in the humid air. 

People kept moving around them. If any of them were annoyed by the two of them standing in the middle of the floor, Lance didn’t hear. For necessity or otherwise, their bodies ended up pressed together as Lance deepened the kiss, arms winding around Keith’s waist as his teeth scraped over the swell of Lance’s bottom lip. He definite felt as fit as he looked, Lance thought dizzily. When Keith knotted his fingers in the short hairs at the nape of Lance’s neck Lance shuddered hard, the pull sending a smooth note of frisson down his spine. They broke apart.

Keith looked just as keyed-up as he felt, face flushed with a little more than exertion. He grabbed Lance’s hand, and once again Lance followed after him, this time towards the back of the club. Lance caught up enough so that when he spoke he didn’t have to shout over the music. “Where we going? The bathroom?”

“No,” Keith bit out. He pulled Lance through the thick of the crowd, squeezing past writhing bodies until they were suddenly standing at the back of the room; there was a neon-lit staircase at the back of the room, guarded by another guy in a bouncer’s uniform. “There’re private rooms, upstairs.”

Lance watched, wide-eyed, as Keith pulled several bills out of the pocket of his jacket and handed them to the bouncer, who leaned in to say something to him, pointing up the stairs. The words were indistinguishable to Lance, but Keith nodded, satisfied. Lance was still staring up at the pink haze of the neon when Keith started to climb, and he scrambled to catch up. 

The stairs came out in a thin corridor lined with doors, clubbers and servers alike bustling in and out. One of the doors not too far from the stairs stood ajar, and Keith went straight to it, motioning Lance to follow.

The room inside was hardly bigger than a cubicle, just enough space to fit a broad leather couch, string lights hanging from the ceiling. But the thing that grabbed Lance’s attention was the opposite wall; all glass, overlooking the crowd below and patterning the room with flashing purple light. 

Lance walked over to the window as Keith shut the door. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” Keith asked, looking from the couch to the window, and Lance realized that the couch was barely a foot or two away from the glass. “We can always turn it around, if you want.”

“I don’t mind,” Lance said, and his heart skipped an unexpected beat as he imagined Keith pressing him down on that couch, in front of the window so that everyone could see. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He turned back to Keith, grinning, and was almost unprepared when he was met with Keith’s mouth instead, hot and biting. Lance went along with it easily, letting Keith push him up against the glass as he deepened the kiss. He almost giggled, helpless with the intensity, and Keith’s mouth curved against his in a smile. They didn’t even break apart when they collapsed onto the couch together. Lance hurried to straddle Keith’s lap, and then Keith’s hands were on his hips, holding him in place. 

Lance could feel his half-hard erection pressing against the seam of his jeans. By the time Keith pulled away, all he could do was pant, and he watched dazedly as Keith’s gaze hungrily took in his face, his mouth, the long line of his neck.

"Bite me," Lance gasped out, digging his fingers into Keith's shoulders. Dammit, he wasn’t in heat but he _wanted_ it, head swimming just from the thought -

The feeling of Keith’s teeth sinking into his neck reverberated through Lance’s whole body like an electric jolt. He gasped at the sweet shock of pain, but Keith’s arms stayed wrapped around him, holding him in place. Lance could feel Keith’s erection pressing into his thigh, hot and thick through the leather, and Lance whined as he tried to grind against it, cock leaking in his briefs.

Keith growled against Lance’s skin. He pulled back, and even though Lance couldn't see the bite marks that Keith had left on him, he could already feel the deep ache that promised some pretty colorful bruises later on. Good. Lance shivered as one of Keith's hands smoothed up his back, grabbing onto the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Keith pulled on his fistful of hair, tilting Lance’s head back. "You like that?"

“Y-yeah,” Lance gasped, and whimpered when Keith put his mouth back on his neck. "B-but come on man, I want you in me!"

Keith hauled him closer, grip tightening around Lance's waist. Lance looked down to see Keith flash a slick grin at him, right before he sunk his teeth back into Lance's throat. "Don't rush."

They barely managed to keep their sitting position as they wrestled their clothes off - or rather, Lance wrestled Keith’s clothes off. That leather jacket looked just as nice thrown onto the floor. Lance didn’t even bother taking off his top, enjoying the way Keith’s body heat radiated through the thin cotton. Once Keith’s shirt was off and he started unbuckling his pants, Lance reared up, patting at his pockets. “Hold on, I have a condom somewhere - ”

“Brought my own,” Keith said. He pulled a foil packet out of his jeans, then unexpectedly took Lance by the hips, helping him off Keith’s lap. “Stand up for a second.”

Lance complied, pausing for a moment to admire the look of Keith as he sat there waiting; his pale, lean torso and corded arms. He turned around with a smirk, bending over just a bit as he unbuckled his jeans. The feeling of Keith’s eyes on him was unmistakable as Lance slid his jeans off with an extra wiggle, the same going for his boxer briefs. When he straightened up after unhooking them from his ankles, he glanced down, inevitably taking in the crowd of dancers below. Was it his imagination, or were some of the people down there watching through the glass?

The first brush of Keith’s hand on his ass made Lance’s breath catch. Keith gently cupped one cheek, squeezed it, then readjusted his grip to hold Lance open. His thumb brushed against Lance’s hole. Lance felt it tighten as Keith probed it again, and then a small gush of slick as Keith’s thumb sank inside him.

His groan broke the silence, and Keith hummed in response as the thumb was replaced with another finger, stroking around Lance’s prostate, and then another. Keith’s other hand landed on the small of his back, pushing him forward. “Bend over.”

Lance caught himself against the window, ducking his head and moaning as Keith's fingers pushed farther inside, scissoring apart. He didn’t usually get so wet unless he was in heat, but that didn’t seem to matter to his body right now; he could feel himself leaking, slick dripping out past Keith’s fingers. He whimpered as Keith slid a third one inside, pushing deep as they thrust in and out.

“ _Fuck_.” Keith’s voice was raspy, but his motions remained steady; he crooked his fingers just right so that Lance’s knees went weak when he pulled them out, leaving his hole empty.

Lance heard the rip of the condom packet, and he looked over his shoulder to see Keith rolling it onto his cock, now naked. It wasn’t anything as dramatically different as his more fearful thoughts had imagined it would be: not too wide, just a little longer than Lance’s own - with a thick, almost rounded base that would swell up to nearly twice the size once Keith was buried inside someone. Once he was buried inside Lance.

Keith looked up and caught Lance’s eye. “Hey - you okay? Sure you're ready?"

“Ohmygod _yes_ ,” Lance said, the words rushing out of him in one breath. Keith smiled, looking heartened and a little eager.

“Here,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down, like this - ”

Together, they got Lance sitting on Keith’s lap again, this time facing the window; with his legs folded up on the cushions to give him some leverage, and one hand on the arm of the couch. Keith held on tight to Lance’s hips. His cock nudged against Lance’s hole, and Lance took a deep breath before bearing down.

The head of Keith’s cock popped inside, forcing him open, and Keith cursed as Lance sank down the rest of the way in one slow glide. By the time Lance stopped he was trembling, almost shaking from that pleasurable ache. He had an alpha’s cock in him. Lance reached down to touch between his legs, fingers trembling as he probed the base of Keith's cock where it vanished inside him. Drifting a little further down found the hot, hard swell of Keith's knot, and then the rubber rim of the condom.

"S-shit," Lance panted. Keith groaned, resting his forehead against the nape of Lance’s neck.

“Did we prep enough? It doesn’t hurt?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Lance could feel himself loosening around Keith, getting used to the stretch. Tentatively, he rolled his hips, and when Keith didn’t react, he pushed up on his knees, sliding back up the length of Keith’s cock so that it nearly slid out of his hole; then Keith moaned, and yanked him back down onto his cock.

Lance went down with a graceless gasp, and he couldn’t help letting out one after another as Keith started fucking him, pounding into Lance with a pace that knocked the breath right out of him. It was hard to focus on anything but the rhythm and the shuddering pleasure it left in its wake, their hips colliding as Lance pushed down and Keith thrust up.

This position brought the curve of Keith's cock right against his prostate, and every time it bumped against it Lance’s arousal grew. His cock bounced with every motion, hard and throbbing. Lance could've touched himself. He didn't. He hadn't gone soft at all when Keith had pushed in, even with the feeling of Keith's knot nudging at his hole, pressure that kept threatening to push further with the slightest give. It was going to feel so fucking big, stretching him open so that Keith could fill him with his come, and even now it was easing him open, shoving against Lance’s hole as he rode Keith’s cock.

"Look up," Keith said between grunts, and Lance obeyed.

The lights of the dance floor blinded him for a moment, but then Lance realized what Keith had meant, and looked at the dancers instead; all the people below kissing and dancing and fucking. And they were all watching him, faces turning up towards the light and looking away laughing, eyes trailing from his face to the slick place between his legs where Keith’s cock was pumping in and out of him - 

Keith shoved his knot in with a twist of his hips, all the way to the hilt, and Lance wailed as his whole body went taut, back arching as he came. His come splattered against the glass in thick white streaks, again and again. Lance felt like he could barely breathe, head spinning and body shaking through the aftershocks; he couldn’t remember the last time he had come this hard. Keith's fingers dug into Lance’s hips, holding him still and upright. His knot had swollen up completely, straining against Lance’s walls: fuck, Lance hadn’t expected it to feel so _huge_ , even looking at it. 

Well, at least Lance could say he wasn’t a virgin in any way now. He let out a weak giggle before going limp, keeping his legs splayed wide open. His cock hadn't even gotten soft yet, spurred on by Keith’s thrusts.

Keith moaned into the crook of Lance’s neck as he kept rocking his hips upwards: short, jerky thrusts that shifted his knot so that it rolled against Lance's prostate, each touch like the best punch to the gut Lance had ever felt. Eventually he stopped thrusting, but his hips kept hitching up, knot tugging at Lance’s rim. Even the most minute shifts were like an explosion. As Lance rode out the sharp waves of pleasure, he realized Keith was coming, filling him up, and that set him off all over again, cock twitching weakly as come dribbled down his thigh.

When Lance was completely wrung out, he sagged back against Keith. He panted loudly, weakly clutching at the arm of the sofa, and then Keith grunted, using his legs to spread Lance's thighs wider apart. He rolled his hips, and Lance let out a sharp, surprised cry as he felt Keith’s cock throbbing inside him.

"No." The word burst against his shoulder on a ragged breath, and Lance looked back at Keith. His dark eyes glowed purple in the half-light, intent. “We're not done yet.”

===

“You’re one of the clingy types, aren’t you?” Lance said, resigned. He twisted his head to look back at Keith. When Keith's stamina had finally given out - two more exhausting, debilitating orgasms later - he had rolled them over onto their sides, Keith spooning Lance to keep their hips pressed close together. This part of knotting was about as tedious as Lance had expected, though there was something gentle and nearly relaxing in the way Keith held him close as he slowly went soft inside him.

“No,” Keith said, his tone indignant, but that didn’t change the fact that his arm was wrapped around Lance’s waist, playing with the rucked-up hem of his tank top.

“Okay,” Lance said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Whatever you want to say, bro.”

Keith snorted, but didn't budge, still holding Lance tight. “Are you gonna head out after this?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. I only have so much stamina.”

“You got a ride?”

“Eh, I took the bus here. I live right downtown.” Lance craned his neck to look back at Keith. “Any reason you ask?”

“Well, I figured I’d head out after this too,” Keith said. "My bike's in the parking lot behind the building.”  
Lance blinked. “Your bike?”

With a grunt, Keith propped himself up in on one elbow, looking down at Lance. “My motorcycle. I’ve got a spare helmet, if you want.”

Lance made a considering noise. He thought about the thick knot still buried inside him, how big it felt even as it went down. Riding a motorcycle would be even less comfortable than taking the city bus in this condition. But then there were the cons, which included catching a late night ride with a bunch of strangers perfectly happy to leer at his bow-legged and bitten state - versus zipping through midnight traffic with his arms around Keith’s waist, the hot summer air streaming past while he buried his face in the collar of that leather jacket…

“Alright," Lance said. He hooked his ankle around Keith's leg, drawing them closer together. "But fair warning, you might have to carry me up to my apartment.”

Keith laughed, of all things, and his hands slid down to Lance’s thighs, giving them a playful squeeze as he kissed the corner of Lance’s jaw: a hot brush of teeth and tongue that made Lance’s heartbeat surge. “I think I can do that.”

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos and comments are seen and appreciated!


End file.
